


Show Yourself (Take Only What You Need)

by KiwiBerry



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: A mix of movie and comic verse, Christmas Party, Drunken Confessions, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Mansion Fic, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Jean Grey Death, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBerry/pseuds/KiwiBerry
Summary: Logan hates parties. He especially hates the cold. So how the hell did he end up in the snow during the Mansion’s Christmas party staring down at a drunk Scott Summers?
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 110
Collections: SVBB & MRBB Secret Santa 2019





	Show Yourself (Take Only What You Need)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkativefangirl13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkativefangirl13/gifts).



Logan disliked parties. Not because he was in anyway against the idea of multiple bottles of beer resulting in a good time, but more because he was averse to the idea of congregating with others outside of missions. Ororo liked to joke that he must have gotten soft then since he’d been spending so much time inside the Mansion. He would often remind her that him staying at the Professor’s had less to do with a desire to be around others and more to do with the fact that otherwise he’d be bored out of his goddamn mind. The world had been too quiet for his liking the past couple years, and the idea of him settling in some way sent a bad shiver down his spine. Perhaps it was getting time to stretch his claws and just go. Go somewhere. Anywhere. A large part of him had considered it, but that was before Jean died. 

Jean had always been a good kid, even when she annoyed the hell out of Logan. She was smart, rational, and powerful as all hell. She’d have made one hell of an x-men if she hadn’t been so adamant on the whole self-sacrificing schtick. Logan couldn’t really relate, but a part of him could sympathize he supposed. The x-men only had each other, and they held fast to the idea of all or nothing with each other. Logan hated that mentality, knew that things like that are what got you killed, messy and quick, but he still couldn’t keep himself from hovering around the mansion, watching and observing. Maybe trying to understand. 

He liked to think that was why he was there now, in the large common room of the mansion while sipping from a lukewarm bottle of beer. His eyes roamed the room, darting between those around him. A Christmas party so soon after a fellow x-men's death felt wrong even to Logan, but he assumed it was one of those healing things. An emotional release or something. He didn’t much care either way as Ororo had promised him at least two cases of his favorite beer if he showed, and who would he be to turn down such an offer? Besides, he could always just drink himself into a corner and then leave. No one would really have expected anything less of him. Hell, maybe he’d get to see someone cry if he was lucky. Death seemed to do that to people. 

“Have you seen Scott?” 

Logan looked up from his seat to find Ororo hovering over him, expression concerned. She had an atrocious red and green sweater on, something frilled and scratchy looking. He forgot how ugly Christmas could be. 

“Do I look like his keeper?” he sneered, taking another long drink from his bottle. It was probably time to finish it and start a new one. 

Ororo didn’t seem to like his answer, hands going to her hips. “I don’t know why I even bother,” she huffed before turning away, obviously annoyed. Huh. She really was worried about the kid. 

Logan let his eyes scan the rest of the room then, finishing his beer. No Scott. 

When Logan moved to the kitchen to grab a new bottle, he let himself settle into his senses, focusing where he could. There were kids in one of the classrooms shouting incorrect Christmas carols. Jubilee showing off sparks in the hallways, lighting up the corridors. He couldn’t find Hank, but he was sure the man was still in his lab, pouring ever whatever the Professor asked him to these days. Everyone accounted for. Except for Scott. 

As Logan meandered, making sure not to hold anyone’s gaze too long, he came across a small draft, subtle enough to miss. He followed, and it lead to one of the large glass doors at the back of the house, long curtains draped over to block out the night sky. One was slightly ajar, letting cold whisps of wind inside. 

Logan pulled it open with a foot, and took a swig of beer while surveying the landscape. Outside it was almost pitch black, save for the white blanket of snow sweeping over the yard. It seemed to stretch for miles, dotted every now and then by a naked, withered tree. A few pine trees, fully flush with needles. It was quiet, the sounds of the Mansion loud at his back, and Logan turned to go back inside. 

A heavy exhale of breath caught his attention, and he turned to the left, eyeing one of those dead trees. Small icicles clumped around its branches, and Logan stared at it before noticing a subtle speck of blue on the other side. Curious, he set his beer down, burying it a bit in the snow, to keep cool, and stepped forward. 

The snow had been deeper than he’d thought, a slight chill seeping into his calves and soaking his pants. It was cold, but nothing he couldn’t manage. Coming around the tree, the blue speck had grown bigger and now included a pair of dark jeans, a smudge of brown hair, and a bright red visor. _Found him_ , Logan thought, knowing Ororo wouldn’t be able to hear him. Maybe one of the other telepaths in the school would be able to send along the message. 

“What are you doing, kid?” Logan asked, standing at Scott’s feet and looking down at him. He wasn’t dressed for the weather, only a thin blue coat zipped over him. No hat or gloves. “How long have you been out here?” It was cold, but Logan wasn’t sure how cold was too cold for Scott. He’d never been a good judge of these things. 

“Fuck off,” Scott said, voice a bit hoarse, and Logan let out a surprised chuckle. 

“I’d love to, but Ororo’s been looking for you. Might get in trouble if I let you freeze to death out here.” He moved over to Scott’s side, and reached out a hand, begrudgingly. “Come on.” 

Scott turned his head, red gaze almost too bright against the white snow. He stared at Logan’s hand, mouth firmly shut. When he opened it to let out a sigh, Logan could smell the alcohol on him. 

“I thought you kids weren’t supposed to drink in front of the students?” Logan asked, honestly curious. It was a big rule of the Professor’s, and one only Logan defiantly ignored. A part of him was almost impressed. 

Scott huffed, sitting up enough to reach out a hand toward Logan. “Remy brought it. Didn’t know,” he explained quietly, and Logan could sense the shame on him. Scott grabbed his hand, cold as ice in Logan’s grip. It distracted him long enough for Scott to yank him down hard, one leg sweeping his ankle to aid in his descent. 

Logan hit the snow face first. “What the fuck,” he snarled, pushing onto his hands. Just because he wasn’t bothered by the cold didn’t mean he wanted to lay in the damn snow. 

Scott stared at him a moment, elbows digging into the icy hell flakes, before bursting into laughter and flinging himself back down. 

“Not funny, kid,” Logan huffed, sitting himself upright. He could feel the snow seeping into his clothes, shirt clinging to his chest. He really hated being wet. 

“Is to me,” Scott said as his laughter died down, eyes toward the sky. Silence passed between them afterward, and Logan found his patience wearing thin. 

“Look, I don’t care if you want to wallow or whatever you’re doing, but maybe try and do it somewhere where Ororo can find you? I hate playing babysitter with you kids,” he explained, unsure why he was even still there. What did he care if Scott got sick or hypothermia or whatever. He was just doing Ororo a favor. 

Scott turned to him, expression grim. “Why are you here?” The question seemed genuine, and Logan wondered just how much the kid had had to drink. 

“I told you, Ororo was looking for you. And I’m trying to be nice, I guess. Call it Christmas goodwill or some shit. I don’t really care. Just come get inside so you don’t die or something. It’ll ruin the holiday mood,” he complained, wishing he hadn’t set down his beer. 

Scott remained quiet, gaze unmoving before he spoke, words almost inaudible. “I miss her.” 

Logan wanted to roll his eyes. “No shit,” he said, leaning back on his hands, head following Scott’s toward the sky. “Everyone does. But you don’t see the rest of us out here, do you?” He knew Scott and Jean had been closer than most, but it still didn’t explain anything to Logan. They’d been good friends, yeah, but never anything more. Even when Logan would mention it to them, how good they’d look as a couple, Scott would always make sure to look away and Jean would just give him this look like he was the stupidest man in the world. It still bothered him, even now. And he couldn’t even ask her why if he wanted to. Fuck. 

Scott was rubbing at his face, knuckles digging in around the edges of his visor, and Logan wondered if he was crying. When he raised a hand to move the thing up his face, Logan couldn’t stop himself from darting forward. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” Logan asked, exasperated and annoyed, hands gripped tightly around Scott’s wrists, holding them to either side of his head. “Just because we’re outside doesn’t mean you won’t hurt anybody. Jesus Christ, kid. I know you’re drunk, but I didn’t think you were that stupid.” The words just came spilling out, something like frustration and worry welling up inside his chest. He hadn’t noticed that Scott wasn’t fighting him, just staring up at him silently, breath coming out in small, visible puffs. 

“Logan,” he said eventually, and Logan could see the smudges of frozen tear tracks on Scott’s face now, could hear the increased beat of his heart, the way heat rushed to his cheeks but not because of the cold--- 

Logan released Scott as if his skin was fire, but he was too slow, too caught up in whatever was happening between them. He blames it for why he gave Scott the perfect opportunity to wrap his arms around Logan’s neck and pull him down, their mouths crashing together. 

Logan should have pulled away instantly, should have grabbed Scott by the collar and dragged him back inside where his ass could mope to somebody else. Instead, he froze, unmoving as Scott’s mouth moved over his messily, almost shivering in the cold. He was desperate and cold and drunk, and Logan tried not to take that personally. 

When Scott stopped moving, loosening his grip on Logan to suck in a deep breath, he smiled, something small and sad. “I’m sorry.”

Logan was even more confused. “What for?” It wasn’t like Scott had tried to kill him or anything. Kissing was nothing. A passing, emotional response. Weakness in physical form. If anything, Logan should be apologizing to him. 

Scott seemed confused by his answer, but one of his hands still lifted into Logan’s hair, curling possessively. “I wonder if there’s a timeline where we don’t hate each other,” he said quietly, a resigned sadness to his words. 

Logan furrowed his brow, eyes searching that ruby gaze. “I don’t hate you, kid,” he confessed eventually, huffing a breath. Every part of him was soaked now, ice seeping into his veins. It was annoying. “We really should go back inside. Don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.” 

Scott frowned, looking hurt, but released Logan anyway. His hand uncurled from Logan’s hair, and his arms fell back to his side, pillowed in the snow. Logan reached out a hand to Scott’s neck, feeling for his pulse. It earned him a small gasp and a shiver. He smirked. 

“Come on. Let’s get you somewhere warm. Sleep this all off.” He knew he was being overly kind, could feel every fiber of his being telling him to stop, to put the walls back up between the both of them like he did with everyone else. But another part of him ached with the familiarity of Scott’s state, knew it almost as well as he knew how long it took for a slash from his claws to close up on his skin. He was an asshole, sure, but he wasn’t heartless. 

Scott accepted his hand this time, and Logan pulled him up slowly, grip lingering a moment too long. 

Ororo was right. Maybe he was getting soft. 

The next day the mansion was quiet, the early morning almost peaceful to Logan’s senses. The party had gone long into the night, so most took the opportunity to sleep in or just laze around in bed. Kitty had been one of the first to cross Logan’s path, sucking in a surprised breath before hurrying away. 

In the kitchen, Logan found Scott rummaging through the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of water, drinking greedily, before closing it. 

“I think there’s tylenol in the cabinet to your left,” he said, almost too loud, and the wince he received in return was definitely worth it. 

Scott only nodded, head down, before making an obvious attempt at escape. Logan reached out a hand when he was close enough, yanking him back into the nearest wall. 

“Logan,” Scott warned, that ever-present scowl on his face, but Logan just ignored it. 

“I just wanted to let you know, for the record,” he began, sliding his hands over Scott’s wrists, holding him in place. When Scott opened his mouth to complain, Logan closed it with his own. The kiss was pointed and rough, Logan licking into Scott’s surprised mouth with ease, exploring where he wanted, teeth dragging over his bottom lip, just hard enough to hurt. He kissed Scott like he wanted to suffocate him, and Scott struggled a lot less than Logan had expected. Huh. 

When Logan stepped away, he dragged a tongue over his own lips, amused by Scott’s heating cheeks and rapid heartbeat. The flush of want radiating off him mixed with confusion and fear. It was almost endearing. “That, kid, is how you kiss.” 

Logan was sure Scott’s body would have turned just as ruby red as his visor if it could, and he ignored the stuttering shouts that followed him out of the kitchen. He ran into a drowsy Ororo on his way, eyebrow raised, and he just smirked. 

Kitty could fill her in if she wanted. Nosy brat.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was a gift for the lovely Madaldal via the SVBB/MRBB Secret Santa! It was a blast to write and I really hope my giftee enjoys! Happy Holidays y’all :)


End file.
